A prompt.
"Heyyy, sugar."
"Seriously, Wally?"
Her eyebrows were raised in disbelief, her high ponytail at the ends of it's reign at the top of her head and bits of pink hair fluttering around her face and her collarbone, a frilly, vintage apron covering the majority of her street clothes.
"Is that anyway to treat me?"
"Go home, Wally."
"But Lucky," he chided, leaning forward on the counter, his butt on the edge of the barstool. They were in a small, homey diner, and Wally was currently one of only three patrons sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen. "I thought you were suppose to be a nice little waitress?"
"…What would you like?"
"A slice of cherry pie, if you would," he asked, leaning back slightly, his elbows still on the counter. She rolled her eyes, jotting it down on a piece of memo paper and sticking her pencil behind her ear, and the visual was enough to make Wally smile, especially after she walked away.
